


What Kind of Fairytale is This?

by emmaliza



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (but she totally knows they're sleeping together and gets off on it so it's cool), Basically Courfeyrac fucks Marius just before his wedding to Cosette, Consensual Infidelity, F/M, I'm not sure how to tag this, M/M, Public Sex, oh maybe it's a bit dubcon if you squint?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius is nervous, and Courfeyrac reassures him that he is going to have the perfect fairytale wedding. And then makes it very much otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind of Fairytale is This?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this kink meme prompt: "Just before Marius' wedding, Courfeyrac steals him away to fuck him in his fancy wedding clothes. Marius has to then stand at the altar, his clothes slightly rumpled, sore and aching and with Courfeyrac's come leaking out of him, knowing that Courfeyrac's sitting there in the front row feeling very pleased with himself. Cosette can know (maybe they have an arrangement?) or not, and bonus points for Marius protesting and being a little reluctant."

"If you keep pacing like that, you're going to damage the floors."

"Agh!" Marius jumps. "Where did you come from?"

"The door," says Courfeyrac, grinning. "Are you quite alright? You look very pale."

"I am very pale. But, no, it's just -- nerves."

"Ah yes. Big day ahead of you."

"Indeed." Marius lets out a shaky breath, laughing at nothing, pulling his trouser legs away from his thighs. He's sweating all over, he must look and smell disgusting by now, oh god, what will Cosette think -- he almost wants to ask Courfeyrac to reassure him he looks okay, but he thinks if he does that one more time Courfeyrac might throw something at him. Even he only has so much patience. So Marius bites his tongue.

Courfeyrac cocks his head to the side. "Are you sure you're alright? You look as if you might faint. Which, while it would be hilarious, also might spoil poor Cosette's wedding and make her cry, which I would rather not happen. Sit down or something, dearest."

"On what?" he has stolen into a tiny, bare room, more of a cupboard than anything, completely free of furniture. He just needed somewhere to try and collect himself, which he did not really succeed in, but he wasn't really expecting anyone to follow him.

"Well then lean against the wall at least."

That is sound advice. Marius takes a step back, trying not to be too uncomfortable against the rough stone (they chose to marry in a church, under the watchful eye of God). He hopes this doesn't scratch his coat. "Sorry. You shouldn't have to worry about me, I'm just--"

"--Anxious?" Marius nods. "Not getting cold feet are you?"

"No! I love her, I want to spend the rest of my life with her, I just -- I don't know, what if I do something wrong?"

Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow. "I thought the whole point of this was that you can do as many things wrong as you like and it will be too much legal hassle for her to leave you?"

"Courfeyrac!"

"Relax, I kid." Courfeyrac makes his way over, leaning against the wall himself, but with his side to it rather than his back. "You two are doomed to have the perfect fairytale wedding, I'm afraid. You're too damn cute for anything else."

"...Um, thanks?" Marius isn't entirely sure how to take that. There's a brief pause, as yet more sweat drips down Marius's neck, and he tries desperately to slow down his heartbeat. This is ridiculous.

He's dragged out of his reverie by something tracing along the edge of his thigh. Courfeyrac's hand. He gulps. "Courf... what are you doing?"

Courfeyrac grins. "What? You look as pretty as you ever have in your life, they have designed you to look as pretty as you are ever going to in your life, and you typically look very pretty indeed. How am I supposed to resist?"

Marius makes a distressed noise. "Courfeyrac, no," he pushes Courfeyrac away by the chest, but very weakly; Courfeyrac only gropes his thigh roughly.

"Come on darling, don't be selfish."

"It's my wedding day."

"And I want to defile you upon your wedding day. I acknowledge it's quite a demand, but well, we are very good friends are we not?" Courfeyrac is pouting at him, all big eyes and soft lips, and that distracts Marius long enough for Courfeyrac to place a hand over his crotch and _squeeze_. He gasps.

"There you go, you're getting hard already. Really, if you refuse all you'll do is end up staining those nice trousers of yours." Marius whimpers as Courfeyrac kneads and strokes him through the fabric, and despite himself he is hardening in Courfeyrac's grip. _Oh god, what do I do?_ "Tell me you don't like the thought of it. Of being fucked like a whore while everyone's waiting for you to go out and be prince charming."

"Cosette--"

"Will love you for it. For being such a slut you can't go one day without a cock. I don't know why, but she seems to find that trait of yours utterly enchanting."

Marius groans. He can't help but remember how this all began. He was fucking Courfeyrac for months before meeting Cosette, a habit that became an addiction, but once she and he got together he stopped, determined to be hers and only hers. Courfeyrac was still his best friend though, and one night he came over while Cosette was out visiting her father. And Marius, well, he had a little too much to drink and... he forgot? And Cosette came home to the sight of him on his knees, with Courfeyrac's cock in his mouth.

He had been horrified, humiliated, frantic apologies barely audible through his tears. And Cosette had smiled, said it was okay, that she would forgive him on one condition: _"Don't leave your poor friend hanging like that, it's simply cruel."_

And that is how they became this. Courfeyrac fucks him, Cosette usually watches, and Marius is the only one who seems even the slightest bit distressed by this situation. He feels greedy, depraved, being shared by his friend and fiancée like this. If anyone knew...

Courfeyrac is still palming him through his trousers, heat pulsing through him as Courfeyrac smoothly undoes the buttons. "One... two... three. Ah, there you go." Once those are gone Courfeyrac pushes his fly open, and Marius throws his head back against the wall, forgetting to resist. "Now, darling, why don't you turn around and brace yourself against the wall for me? Good boy."

Feeling like he is in a trance, Marius does what he is told. His palms scratch against the wall.

Courfeyrac is slow, gently rubbing circles on Marius's lower back through his coat. Marius whimpers. "Courfeyrac, please." If they are going to do this, he'd rather Courfeyrac not tease him so.

Courfeyrac smacks his ass gently. Again he gasps. "Patience, dear."

 _You were the one who made me--_ but then cold air hits him as Courfeyrac pulls his trousers down around his thighs, and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. One of Courfeyrac's hands rests on his shoulder, while the other disappears; Marius hears buttons snap as they are undone, and he shivers.

"Courf-- I'm not--"

"Don't fret, I shall take care of it." When he feels Courfeyrac's fingers trace over his hipbone, Marius realises they are wet, covered in some sort of lotion. He must have planned this. That should not surprise him, and yet it makes some indescribable emotion swell in him, like outrage and arousal and fear all at once.

One finger smoothly slides into him, and Marius moans at the teasing breach, the stretch that does not fulfill. "Quiet, dear. After all there are plenty of old ladies your grandfather knows in that church, ready and waiting to clutch their pearls."

Marius bites down on his lip, terror racing down his spine, cock jerking shamefully. They could be caught. Marius's emotions storm and thunder at the very thought; he can barely endure them and certainly can't recognise them.

Courfeyrac is merciless. "You know, I don't believe that door locks. So really, anyone could walk in on us at any point." Marius whimpers as Courfeyrac pushes his finger back and forth, his face flushed red and eyes closed in shame.

Without warning a second finger slips into him and he cries out without thinking, before pursing his lips tightly together. No, he _can't_. Courfeyrac laughs. "You know, you're quite a cliche. All protestations and 'no, I cannot, I am a faithful man and I must retain my virtue' -- as if you had anything left to retain -- but the second you give in..."

Then, he pushes his fingers in deeper, stroking over that one spot that makes Marius shake all over with pleasure, scratching the wall roughly. He lets out a long, low, shuddering moan, desperately aware of how he needs to keep quiet, but he can't help himself, it feels _good_ , and he keens as Courfeyrac twists his fingers idly.

"Courfeyrac-- please--"

"Quiet." Courfeyrac adds his third finger and Marius shrieks as quietly as he can; no, it's too much, it's too fast, the stretch burns him. "Shh, shh," Courfeyrac says at his distressed noises, spreading his fingers wide, only agonising Marius more. Pained, stuttering moans fall off his lips. Courfeyrac's fingers push in deep again and pleasure returns, as Courfeyrac presses at all the spots that make Marius want to scream; he manages to relax around the fingers, starts to appreciate being so spread as Courfeyrac opens as fingers as wide as he can.

The replacement of pain with pleasure only makes his noises more wild, more uncontrollable. If he strains, he thinks he can still hear the crowd chatting and giggling outside. He needs to stop himself, but he can't; he bites his lip until he thinks it may bleed, and still a cry slips out of his mouth. Courfeyrac sighs. "Don't worry, I shall take care of it." Then with his free hand he covers Marius's mouth, smothering his sounds, and _thank god._

Courfeyrac moves his hand back and forth, fucking Marius on his fingers, and Marius whines against his palm. His cock throbs in the air, pushing against his shirt (god he hopes he doesn't stain it); he wants Courfeyrac to touch him, but Courfeyrac has no free hand with which to do so. He wants to touch himself, but he fears losing balance if he lets go of the wall, besides he doesn't think Courfeyrac would let him. So instead he just stands there, bucking against the fingers.

Except suddenly those fingers are gone, and Marius whines pathetically. "Courfeyrac, please," he says, his legs shaking, muffled against the hand. Courfeyrac pulls it away for a second. "Courfeyrac, _please_."

Courfeyrac laughs as he covers Marius's mouth once more. "You know, I'm certain you can beg more prettily than that. But nevermind. I am lazy and greedy, and for once that suits your purposes."

Marius is not quite sure what he expects -- but suddenly he is slammed into the wall, so it rubs against his chest through the pure white shirt (it's going to leave a mark, oh god); he no longer has room to brace his hands on the wall so he folds his arms against it, above his head, leans his forehead on them. Then Courfeyrac's body envelops him, practically burning with heat through his own fine suit, and he tears into Marius with a rough thrust.

Marius cries out, body tensing against the sudden intrusion. Courfeyrac does not tease, does not ease the way, simply slams into Marius again and again until his body is forced to relax under the unending assault. The pleasure sparks whenever Courfeyrac pushes himself all the way in, and Marius whimpers, which makes Courfeyrac chuckle. "Shh, shh," he says again in a voice that seems designed to torment than soothe. "I think you're only meant to start crying once you see the bride."

With a choked sob Marius realises tears are falling down his cheeks, and he is helpless to control them. "Cou--" He doesn't even get out the full syllable, cutting himself off with a wild noise as Courfeyrac takes the hand away from his mouth, so he can spreads him further apart with both thumbs, thrusting in deeper. Marius clenches and shudders against Courfeyrac's pulsing cock inside him, sobbing every time Courfeyrac withdraws, tortured by just how good he feels.

He tries to spread his legs wider and finds himself stopped by his trousers, falling about his knees, and he is suddenly terrified of tearing them. He's terrified he won't be able to hide what he's done. Then he's distracted as Courfeyrac's hand squeezes at his balls; he gasps, and when Courfeyrac starts to stroke and fondle, he mewls. His cock still goes untouched and it throbs at the added sensation; he has to lean further into Courfeyrac so it doesn't scratch against the wall. Marius leans forward, bites into the cotton of his coat and soft flesh of his arm to try and muffle himself. Courfeyrac quickens his thrusts and he bites down deeper, causing himself pain, and certainly leaving a trail of his saliva.

Courfeyrac's hand presses at his hip, pulling him back further, encouraging Marius to rock into Courfeyrac's thrusts -- which he does, helplessly. "There's a good boy," Courfeyrac mumurs, pressing a kiss to Marius's clothed shoulder. Finally, his hand moves from Marius's balls to his cock, thumb and forefinger wrapped around the very base of it. He squeezes, which makes Marius whimper, then strokes lightly -- still more of a tease than anything. Marius moans.

"Touch -- please touch -- I -- please, Courf, please, I -- _oh_..."

The strokes become even looser, gently, while Courfeyrac slows the pace of his hips, leaving Marius trembling.

"Please -- touch my cock, fuck me hard. I need--"

The blush that rises to Marius's cheeks when he hears himself saying those words is almost as strong as Courfeyrac's laugh, or the thrust he gives to bury himself deep inside Marius once more. Marius gasps. "Such filthy language, Monsieur Pontmercy. What happened to my favourite little prude?"

Marius whimpers, but then, finally, Courfeyrac's hand closes around his cock and he screams. "Oh god!" He lets out filthy moans as Courfeyrac starts thrusting into him violently again, until he manages to think again, fear breaks through the surge of pleasure. He bites down on his arm again but it barely even helps anymore; he's so _loud_ , and he's not sure if that is his crying out or simply the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, but Courfeyrac strokes him ruthlessly, apparently fearless, not at all worried by Marius's desperate pleasured cries.

Before he knows it it becomes too much; he comes while biting into his own skin, shaking and squirming on Courfeyrac's cock. He clenches and is almost overwhelmed by how tight, how full he feels; he fears he might be hurting Courfeyrac, but if that's the case it doesn't show. Courfeyrac does not slow, maintaining the same relentless pace as Marius moans and writhes against him. He strokes Marius until Marius's come splatters on the stone floor; thankfully none lands on his clothing, but still he looks down at it in shame.

Courfeyrac lets go of his cock as Marius comes down from his high, pain and pleasure swamping him. Courfeyrac still pushes into him greedily, and Marius shudders through the aftershocks. A long, slow sigh and Courfeyrac finally stills, and Marius feels him twitching inside his sensitive hole as he comes. He feels like he can feel the hot liquid dripping into him. He whimpers.

A receives a soft, chaste kiss on the shoulder, and oddly tender gesture given the circumstances, before Courfeyrac pulls out. He tightens against his emptiness and the cold air hitting his wet hole. Courfeyrac doesn't bother to clean him up, doesn't even wait for him to recover enough to stand straight up again before he pulls Marius's trousers back up around his waist, fastens them casually. "You know, I think you're shaking even more now," he laughs, and smacks Marius's ass because he can.

Marius moans, but manages to pull himself up and turn around. "I despise you," he gasps, still leaning against the wall for stability. He can already feel Courfeyrac's come sliding out of his hole and down his thighs. He prays to god the fabric of his trousers is thick enough that no-one will see a stain.

"Oh, Marius, you are adorable," Courfeyrac ruffles his hair, and Marius bats him away. "Here, borrow my mirror," he says, pulling a small one out of his coat pocket. "You may want to, how shall I put it, adjust yourself a little before your blushing bride arrives."

Then he flounces out of the room, somehow both looking completely inconspicuous and yet still reeking of sex. Perhaps Marius's mind is playing tricks on him. He looks at the puddle of his come on the floor and panics; he tries to spread it and work it into the floor. He winds up with a thin wet film across the stone, not really recognisable for what it is, but he's still scared someone will see and know.

Hesitantly, he looks at himself in Courfeyrac's mirror -- cheeks flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen. _Oh god._

*

He's not ashamed to say he bursts into tears when he first sees Cosette. She looks like an angel, covered in soft white lace, golden curls falling about her shoulders. For once, he feels no-one in this room could possibly judge him for crying.

She approaches him with the widest, brightest, purest smile on her face. "Hello," she says, and it seems as if so much -- _I love you, you are beautiful, I can't believe it's finally here_ \-- is contained within that simple word. He tries to return it, but can only choke out some indeterminate vowel sound that must pass for a greeting. She only smiles wider. She is an angel.

Then concern crosses her visage. "Marius, are you alright?" she asks. "You seem a little shaky."

Red rushes back to his cheeks. He did his best to smooth his clothes, fix his hair, force himself to cool down, but... He can still feel come leaking from him; he still feels soreness in the places Courfeyrac gripped him; he still feels Courfeyrac's smug smile from behind him.

"Oh, I'm -- fine," he manages to force out. "Just... nerves."

A moment, and then Cosette smiles again. But this time, it doesn't look angelic in the slightest.

Nonetheless, they get through the vows without incident. When he dances with her, everyone fully expects his dancing to be so bad that no-one considers his lack of coordination could be anything more than Marius Pontmercy being Marius Pontmercy.

They eat, and then comes time for... Ah. Time for Courfeyrac's speech.

Marius considers simply setting himself on fire and being done with it, but in fact, it's not as bad as he expects. Courfeyrac does tell many stories to embarrass him, but luckily for him, there the same one's Courfeyrac always tells; the ones he's built up something of a resistance too. Including the infamous "I have come to sleep with you," incident, which Courfeyrac looks overjoyed to have found new people to tell about (since the number of times he has told that story to everyone they actually know means it has lost something of its comedy value).

He also mostly avoids alluding to his and Marius's, well, whatever it is, which is good because Marius still can't sit straight; he does not need an additional reminder.

Still, he almost manages to relax, until--

"I hope you two will make each other happy. If not, well, someone may have to intervene and make one of you happy themselves."

That gets a laugh from the crowd, and Marius presumes everyone thinks he means Cosette. He blushes violently, looking down in shame. Oh god.

Cosette squeezes his thigh, a little too hard to be reassuring. He looks up again, and sees her and Courfeyrac share a brief glance and a smirk. He gulps.


End file.
